


Alpine Flirtation

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Banter, E rating earned in chapter 5, Flirting, M/M, Snow, Vacation, unresolved sexual tension... until it is resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28732425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: Greg is taking a vacation in Switzerland, when he runs into Mycroft. Coincidence?
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 81
Kudos: 223





	1. Chapter 1

“Detective Inspector…”

Greg frowned and turned around in the armchair. That voice… It couldn’t be. Here? Now?

“Mycroft Holmes, as I live and breathe. What are you doing in Switzerland?”

“I am on holiday.”

“Didn’t think you even knew the word.”

“Very droll.”

Greg smiled. There they were, the two of them, in a small mountain town in the Alps, somewhere in the middle of Switzerland. Somehow, miraculously in the same small hotel. Was it coincidence? Mycroft did look like he was on vacation. He also looked suitably surprised, though luckily not entirely horrified. He wasn’t even wearing a suit, for once, merely sensible trousers for the weather (it had been snowing for days), heavy boots and a dark green jumper. He looked soft and warm. Edible, Greg’s brain helpfully supplied and he shushed himself mentally.

“Came down from your room for a drink?”

Mycroft nodded.

“Then sit down,” Greg said and gestured to the opposite armchair, which was also situated in front of the fireplace.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude… besides, I have come to read, so I wouldn’t be the most scintillating companion.”

“Then sit down and read. I’m doing the same,” Greg said and held up a book. “Well, after I’ve fended off my nephew. He’s been texting me stuff to do around here since I left for the airport…”

“If you’re sure.”

“Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Mycroft regarded him with a curious expression, which Greg couldn’t immediately place.

“You would consider us friends?” Mycroft finally asked.

“We’re certainly not enemies and I’ve lived through one too many of your brother’s shenanigans with you to relegate you to a mere acquaintance. So, yes. Friends. But if you don’t want to—”

“No, no. I was just… surprised. I’ll accept your invitation, then. Thank you.”

Greg’s heart made a curious jump as Mycroft settled in, sinking into the plush armchair with a sigh, stretching out his legs. His feet almost touched Greg’s before he pulled them back.

“What are you having?”

Greg picked up the glass and swirled the last bit of liquid in the light of the flames. “Some sort of dessert wine they recommended to me. It’s pure sugar. I forgot the name, but I like it.”

“Shall I order two more?”

“Yes, please.”

He watched Mycroft call over the waitress and order. There was a softness to his features, a relaxed openness he had never seen in all these years in London. Before he was found staring, he turned back to his phone to assure his nephew that, yes, he would try at least two more of his suggestions before he’d return to London. And, yes, he would send pictures. There was ample time, at least. Piled up leave had amounted to three weeks of vacation. Bliss. He put his phone away when the drinks arrived and he raised his glass to toast with Mycroft, who regarded him with curious eyes and a hint of a smile.

“To long overdue vacations,” Mycroft said.

“To meeting friends in unlikely places,” Greg replied.

Greg savoured the expression on Mycroft’s face even more than Mycroft savoured the sugary wine.

“That’s really rather good. I usually don’t indulge in these kinds of things, but… I might make an exception just for now.”

Greg didn’t miss how Mycroft gave him a casual once over with his eyes and a flash of heat rushed through his body. It was gone as quickly as it had come, settling in as a comfortable warmth in his core. This was nice. Unexpected, but nice. He wasn’t in any rush. Or… 

“How long will you be here for?” Greg asked, tried to make it sound… noncommittal and probably failed miserably, judging from the knowing smile on Mycroft’s face.

“I only arrived yesterday night, and barring any global emergencies I will be here for about two weeks. I… I admit I need the time off after the annual Christmas traditions at my parent’s house. Not that I don’t like them, but…”

“I get it. It’s draining to have to be alert and present around people all the time, even if they’re your parents.”

Mycroft’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Greg laughed.

“Would you believe I’m a bit of an introvert myself? No? Well, I’m good at camouflaging. But even I need some alone time every now and then to find my equilibrium.”

“Yes, quite,” Mycroft replied and took another sip of the sweet wine. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you.”

“Nonsense. You might be the only person I enjoy being alone with right now.”

Greg let the words hang between them. Mycroft cleared his throat. Then he picked up his book and opened it. Greg did the same, though not without noticing the faint blush on Mycroft’s cheeks. It was probably just the heat of the fire… but if it was more, he wouldn’t be opposed. Not at all. He’d long wanted to invite the man out for a drink to get to know him better.

They read their respective literature in companionable silence, the conversations of the other clients of the hotel bar a soothing lull in the background. It was nice to know people were there. It was nicer not having to interact with them. Greg glanced at Mycroft from time to time. The other man seemed lost in whatever he was reading, turning pages rather quickly, sometimes chuckling to himself. Greg clenched his fingers in an effort to suppress any reaction. No one had warned him how adorable Mycroft Holmes could be! His face was soft in the flickering light of the fire, his hair partially mussed, possibly from having been under a cap half the day. He looked… Greg cleared his throat. Mycroft looked up. Their eyes met for a long time before anyone said anything.

“What are you reading? You seem engrossed,” Greg asked and wasn’t proud at how shaky his voice sounded.

Mycroft held up the book with the black and white cover.

“Chill Tidings: Dark Tales of the Christmas Season. I wouldn’t have taken you for a horror reader,” Greg mused.

“It calms me, weirdly enough.”

“Whatever works. In fact, I’m not that far off…” Greg admitted and held up his own book.

“Dracula?” Mycroft said with a smile. “A classic for a reason.”

“I usually re-read it around this time of year. I’m practically done, though…”

“Almost done with your vacation, then?” Mycroft asked and Greg heard the disappointment in his voice.

“Far from it. I arrived a few days ago and am going to be here for at least three weeks. I just couldn’t be arsed to go outside today, so I spent the day in bed with a good book. Thought I have to move at least a bit, so I rolled down the stairs to continue reading here.”

If anything, Mycroft looked very pleased. Greg was happy to have put that expression on his lips.

“So… may I count on your company for a few nights yet?” Mycroft asked and Greg was amazed by how cautious his hopeful tone was.

“Definitely. You’re very pleasant to be around.”

“You might be the only person who believes that…”

Greg decided to take the opening. “Even if I am the only one, wouldn’t that be enough?”

Mycroft smiled sheepishly. “More than enough.”

Something shifted between them in that moment. A shared understanding settled in and was there to stay. Mycroft took his glass and downed the last remnants. Then he glanced at his wristwatch, put the bookmark between the pages of his book and stood up.

“May I be so bold as to invite you for a walk tomorrow? If you can get out of bed, that is.”

“Oi, I’m on vacation. I’ll stay in bed as much as I want to.”

“Is that a no?”

“It isn’t. I’d love to join you.”

Mycroft smiled. “Would 10am suit you? At the hotel entrance.”

“If you don’t catch me raiding the pancakes at breakfast first,” Greg said with a grin.

“Good night, Gregory,” Mycroft said and the way he pronounced Greg’s name made a warm shiver run over his body.

“Good night, Mycroft.”

He expected Mycroft to leave right away, but was surprised when the other stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder. The warmth seemed to seep through his clothes. He looked up to find a lost expression on Mycroft’s face, as if he wasn’t entirely sure about what he was doing, then tensed up when Mycroft leaned down and put his mouth next to Greg’s ear.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered like a secret.

Then Mycroft was gone and Greg was fighting to catch his breath.


	2. Chapter 2

“May I join you?”

Greg would be able to live the whole day on the energy he got when he saw Mycroft’s eyes light up. He gestured towards the other chair at the small breakfast table.

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

He sat down with a plate of pancakes smothered in syrup and a smile.

“Had a good night?”

“I stayed up too late reading…”

“Cute.”

For a moment Mycroft looked like he wanted to stick his tongue out, then he merely scoffed.

“I am the furthest thing from it.”

“Sure,” Greg said and dug into his pancakes.

The breakfast room around them was already rather empty, though there weren’t many people in the small hotel anyway. Music was playing softly in the background. The only other noises were the clinking of Greg’s cutlery and the rustle of the pages Mycroft was turning.

“Don’t you get your news digitally?”

“Hush. I’ll have you know that reading a physical newspaper for an hour while drinking too much tea is essential for my well being in the mornings.”

“Noted. Though.. you have only 30-ish more minutes before we are supposed to meet up at the entrance. Not much time.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow that had no right to be this attractive. No right.

“And I will be there. After I drink my tea.”

Greg reached for the cup and downed the remnants. Mycroft gasped.

“Detective Inspector!” he said with false indignation and a dramatic huff. “Did an upstanding member of the London police force just steal my tea?”

Greg licked his lips. “Last time I checked we’re not in London.”

“Cheeky.”

The clear mirth in Mycroft’s eyes made Greg’s heart jump. He wanted to kiss the smirk off his face. Instead he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Mycroft picked up the cup and maintained eye contact while he licked along the rim, where Greg’s lips had just been.

“Oh, I think I have my ways…” he said and put down the cup again. “As I seem to have finished my tea I’m going to dress for the walk. See you in a bit.”

And he was gone. Greg put his face in both hands and gave a futile laugh. There was one thing entirely clear: He didn’t have the upper hand here… and that was fine. And they were absolutely on the same page. A shiver ran through Greg’s body.

“Right,” he said and got up to fill himself up with coffee before he retreated to dress up warmly.

…………….

Mycroft was waiting for him, snugly dressed in wintry attire—an elegant charcoal grey coat, dark red scarf and cap. He was pulling on leather gloves as Greg turned the corner and all of his blood immediately rushed south.

Leather. Gloves.

“Gregory,” Mycroft greeted him before he could turn around again.

Greg had never been so happy to have also invested in a coat instead of a jacket, because it was hiding the evidence rather well. Also it was dark blue and the lady at the shop had said it made his eyes shine. As if they needed any help shining when he looked at Mycroft.

“Hi,” he croaked, then coughed slightly. “Sorry, something stuck in my throat.”

“Is that so?” Mycroft asked. “I’m electing to not take this curveball. After you?”

Greg sputtered. “Alright. My nephew actually told me of a walk a bit higher up, from where you can see a glacier. Fancy going a bit out of the way?”

“I follow you anywhere.”

“Careful. I might run off a cliff.”

Mycroft sighed dramatically, paused for effect, then shrugged. “So be it.”

“Come on, then.”

Greg did go ahead, but only so he could avoid looking at Mycroft’s cheeky smile. This was… nice. Very nice. The teasing, the bad jokes… the thinly veiled affection. He wished it would never end.

They walked through town towards the small lift and boarded a gondola, which took them up a snowy slope, through a sleepy forest, past the tree line. The view was magnificent and Greg was glued to the very cold window.

“You can see the end of the glacier from here!” he marveled.

“I know.”

“Don’t tell me… You’ve been up here before.”

“Maybe.”

“You could’ve suggested another walk.”

“Why would I? Seeing your eyes light up is all the view I need.”

Greg made a rude gesture, to which Mycroft just laughed. It was so easy being with him here, right now… as if their life in London didn’t even exist. Though, in a way it did, because it was even more extraordinary to see Mycroft like this in contrast to his more severe exterior back home. Not that Greg hadn’t seen him laugh before… but the occasions had been far and few between. Now… it didn’t seem like Mycroft would ever stop smiling.

Soft on me, aren’t you? You don’t even care how obvious you are. Lovely.

They disembarked at the topmost station and Greg was surprised to see so many people about. They were on a plateau with a restaurant and large platform, from which to observe the slopes and the glacier. Alright, maybe not too surprised. It was… magnificent.

“Come on,” he said impatiently like a child and walked ahead to the edge to look down at the view.

“Too bad it has started snowing again…” Mycroft said as he joined him at the railing. “If it’s clear, you can see the mountain range and all of the glacier.”

“Just means we have to come up here again.”

“Mhm, yes. We should. It really is gorgeous.”

“When did this turn into a couple’s vacation?” Greg quipped.

Mycroft’s hand found his way on top of Greg’s where it was situated on the railing. He squeezed it once, then let go again.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gregory,” he said, but it was fond and gentle.

Greg grinned and enjoyed the view. After a while, Mycroft turned away and gestured for Greg to follow him.

“I know a path along the ridge, which gives an even better view.”

“We did come up here for a walk,” Greg said. “Lead the way.”

They walked around the restaurant and between the tourists taking selfies with the view. The path they ended up on was narrow, so that Mycroft went ahead and Greg followed him, alternatively staring at the man’s head and the cliffs below them. They walked in silence, only once making way for a couple coming the other way, otherwise completely alone. Finally they reached a viewing point, which was nestled against a large boulder, surrounded by fences. The glacier was right beneath them. Greg gasped as he took in the view. Mycroft stood next to him, obviously amused.

“It has nothing on the Grand Canyon, but it is rather nice.”

“Push off,” Greg replied. “Not everyone can do fancy trips like you.”

“I can take you, if you want…” Mycroft said and let it trail off.

He was looking the other way when Greg looked at him, very obviously embarrassed. Greg sighed.

“I’d go anywhere with you,” Greg whispered. “Anywhere you want.”

Mycroft turned back around and smiled at him, so brightly, happy and content that it took Greg’s breath away. He cleared his throat. The desire to kiss the man was overwhelming. He put a hand on his arm. Mycroft’s eyes widened in shocked understanding. The next movement was a blur. Greg found himself spun around and pressed against the rock face behind him, their bodies not touching, yet his hands pinned next to his head. There was a wild look in Mycroft’s eyes, which was hauntingly beautiful.

“Mycroft… I have to confess something…”

Mycroft held Greg’s hands tighter, leaned in so their noses touched.

“That you bribed my brother with a box full of cold cases to learn where I disappear to every January? You’re not the only one to have the means of making him talk.”

“What? How?”

“Do you really think I wasn’t suspicious of you turning up in this remote place, somewhere you’re not likely to ever book a vacation out of your own volition? It wasn’t hard to put two and two together and deduce your… sultry motivation.”

Greg started to shiver as Mycroft came closer and closer, so that their lips almost touched. He could feel his breath on his skin, hot in contrast to the freezing air. Mycroft’s expression was predatory.

“I confess I’m enjoying this too much to simply kiss you right now… Would you grant me a few more days? A few more opportunities to—”

“Get me keyed up almost beyond control?”

Mycroft smiled. “We’re here for a while yet… Sunday is in three days.”

“Mycroft I’m going to die. I… I… Fuck, I want you so much.”

A shiver went through Mycroft’s body, which even Greg could feel. He made a very pleased hum.

“Just imagine how much you’ll want me on Sunday.”

Greg gave a futile laugh. “I see what’s happening. You’re getting off on keeping me desperate, you bastard.”

“And you’re getting off on doing exactly. What. I. Tell. You. Otherwise you’d have us turned around and kissed me already.”

“Okay, alright. FINE. I’m keeping my hands to myself… but on Sunday…”

Mycroft smiled. He brushed their noses together briefly, then detached himself. He patted down his coat and gave Greg a smirk, where he was still holding to the rock to keep himself upright. Then he held up his hands and tugged at the leather gloves. Greg made a complicated noise.

“Who said you’re going to be able to use your hands on Sunday?”

“Mycroft!”

“Yes?”

Greg pushed his hands through a snow bank and showered Mycroft with more than a handful of ice. Mycroft barked a laugh and ruffled his hair, so that it was free of snow, but now standing up mussed, ice crystals glinting in the setting sun.

“You’re an absolute bastard,” Greg huffed.

“Yes. I thought we had established that years ago. Now come along, I’m feeling peckish and it’s a while back to the restaurant.”

Greg stared at him turning around and leaving. This absolutely infuriating, cruel, beautiful man. They wouldn’t be waiting until Sunday. Not if Greg could force Mycroft to make a move before. Not through actual force… rather a bit of gentle persuasion.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg slept in the next morning. After being next to Mycroft for most of the day and the gentle hug he’d received before they’d separated for the night, Greg had been so keyed up… The only way to calm down had been to take himself in hand, moaning Mycroft’s name. He knew why Greg was there. And he was… he was alright with it. Fuck.

He rolled over and glanced at his phone. 11:43. Twelve missed messages.

“What does the little shit want now? I sent him  
pictures of the glacier…”

Eleven messages from his nephew. One from Mycroft. Greg swallowed and opened it.

[I missed you at breakfast. Can I tempt you to a spot of lunch instead?] MH

Greg smiled into his phone. He made a stupid decision and snapped a selfie of himself in bed, hair standing in all directions, bare shoulders.

[You can tempt me to a lot of things…] GL

Attached. Sent. (Before he could change his mind.)

The reply came fast.

[Now that you’re up, I expect you in the hotel’s restaurant in twenty minutes.] MH

A short pause.

[And thank you for the inspiration.] MH

“Bastard,” Greg said affectionately.

He showered quickly and threw on some clothes, made it down to the restaurant in record time. Mycroft glanced at his watch when Greg sat down.

“2 minutes to spare. I’m impressed.”

“I don’t run for everyone.”

Mycroft leaned back and smiled. “But you do run for me.”

“Well, you’re not everyone.”

Greg perused the menu, ears too red to look at Mycroft right now.

“I recommend their Capuns. A local specialty. It’s good, trust me,” Mycroft said.

“Sure. I trust you.”

Mycroft smiled and proceeded to order, including a bit of wine for both of them.

“Did you just order in Swiss German?”

“Yes.”

“You cocky bastard.”

“You like it.”

“God help me, I do. I do.”

“And what a lucky thing that is, since being a bastard is what I excel in.”

Greg barked a laugh. 

“By the way, what did you mean by inspiration?”

Mycroft picked up the napkin and unfolded it, placed it on his lap with no hurry in the world. Then he looked back up and fixed Greg with a piercing stare.

“Tonight I’m going to touch myself while looking at your exposed shoulders.”

A flush of heat ran through Greg’s body and was made worse by the way Mycroft picked up on it with a knowing smile. The absolute villain.

“You can’t just… say things like that!”

“Why not? Because it isn’t done? Please. Do you think so little of me?”

“I actually think quite a lot of you.”

“Thank you.”

Their drinks arrived and soon after the food. They shared amiable conversation, teasing each other every opportunity they got. Greg had wanted to get Mycroft to crack, but the other was way ahead of him, skillfully working in innuendo after innuendo.

“I think I need to cool off,” Greg said when they left the restaurant. “Luckily it’s an icebox out there.”

“Take care not to wander too far. They predicted heavy snowfall this afternoon.”

“Why? Because you still need me?”

Mycroft brushed his fingers down Greg’s arm and fixed him with a thoughtful gaze.

“Because I would throw myself into the storm to find you. Have a good afternoon… and when you return, knock on my door, would you? I would relish another night reading with company.”

“Of course. See you later.”

If Mycroft was his partner, Greg would’ve kissed him. He wasn’t, so he didn’t. He merely gave him a smile and was off.

…………….

Greg was all but frozen after his extended walk. It actually had started snowing. Heavily. Still, the journey had been beautiful. He was warming up under the shower, once more taking himself in hand, because if he’d go to Mycroft like this, he’d jump him.

A short while later he stood at the door to Mycroft’s suite and knocked on the wood. The door was opened pretty much immediately.

“Gregory. Come in.”

“Oh. I thought we’d go to the bar…”

“Or you could sip on the wine I got and listen to me read a ghost story to you.”

“Oh, hell yes.”

A short while later he was sitting in a plush armchair, feet drawn up, listening to Mycroft Holmes’ dulcet tones describing a haunted house. His head was in a pleasant buzz from the wine and Mycroft looked so incredibly lovely. Soft. Warm. Inviting. Greg sighed.

“Is the story not to your liking?”

“No… it’s lovely. You are a brilliant narrator. I’m just thinking about how much I want to kiss you.”

“Gregory…”

“I know, I know.”

“No, that’s not… ugh…”

Mycroft closed the book and stood up. Greg held his breath as he came to stand in front of the armchair and bowed down. He was looming over him, so close, so incredibly close, but not touching. They were both breathing deeply, the tension in the air so thick you could cut it. Greg sank deeper into the armchair.

“It’s only been a day. You made the request… yet now you’re the one who looks like he wants to break it.”

“Gregory…” Mycroft breathed. “I do… I… do want you.”

Greg’s eyes widened despite everything. It was different hearing it out loud. Spine chillingly different.

“Then take me.”

Mycroft made a distressed noise. “Do you have any idea what went through my mind when I realised why you followed me here?”

“Hopefully it was: He stalked me because he wants me under him in his bed, because it’s the truth. Now all you need to do is make a move.”

“No. I will not give in so easily.”

“Why not?”

“Not after such a short time.”

Greg raised his hands and let his fingertips glide down lightly over the skin of Mycroft’s cheek. The shuddering exhale he received in return was too much to bear.

“Gregory!”

“Short time my arse. We’ve known each other for five years, practically almost to this day… Wait. Wait! That’s it, isn’t it? Sunday! The anniversary of when we first met! When you came to bail out your brother.”

Mycroft blushed and drew back. He turned away and took a few steps into the room. Greg struggled to his feet, grabbing Mycroft’s hand, who looked back at him, ears red.

“It may be a meaningless date to you,” Mycroft whispered. “You’ll think me a sentimental fool…”

“Nothing of the sort. I understand. was fascinated with you from the first moment. Also annoyed and angry, but well, mostly fascinated.”

Mycroft released a sigh when Greg brought his hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it. He looked like he was melting when their eyes met again.

“Wine and ghost stories like planned, then?” Greg asked.

“Yes. I’d like that.”

“Together on the sofa? I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.”

“Yes.”

Mycroft sat down and spread out a blanket over his legs, then lifted one side.

“Join me?”

Greg’s heart made a jump.

“Gladly.”


	4. Chapter 4

Greg woke in the middle of the night, slumped over on the sofa, leaning against Mycroft, who had his arms around him, head lying on top of Greg’s. The other man was snoring lightly, which was… adorable. Just adorable. Greg loathed to move, but there was a crick in his neck, so he slowly tried to wiggle out of Mycroft’s grasp, only to be held even closer. He sighed.

“Mycroft…” he whispered.

A cute grumble.

“Mycroft…”

Movement. More movement. Then… the frozen realisation.

“Gregory…” Mycroft said, voice rough from sleep, the vibrations of which went through Greg’s body and made him shiver in the best way. “I’m so sorry… You fell asleep and—”

“Don’t apologise. This is nice.”

Mycroft sighed and embraced Greg closer yet again, head on his shoulder. Greg hugged him back this time, humming contently. They remained like this for a while, all closeness and warmth under the blanket.

“I had hoped… I don’t know what I imagined to achieve by coming here, but, well, I had hoped to achieve something. This is… I couldn’t have imagined holding you like this in my wildest dreams. Thank you,” Greg whispered.

Mycroft’s fingers dug into the fabric of Greg’s shirt. He wiggled his face into the crook of Greg’s neck, so that his lips were touching the skin. He didn’t move, just remained there, pressed as close as he could. Greg swallowed. All of a sudden he was near tears. He held Mycroft even closer.

“Can I… uh, I mean, is it still true? What you said? That you want me too?”

Mycroft made a noise against Greg’s skin. It was all hot breath and moving lips. Then he nodded.

“I’ve admired you for a while… but in London I never found the opportunity,” Greg admitted

“I didn’t know…” Mycroft whispered against Greg’s skin. “I… I have held some feelings for you for a long time, but somehow it felt impossible that you could possibly like me as well.”

“You like me?” Greg stammered.

“I… I can’t call it love, since I’ve long since forgotten what that feels like, but… I see you as a reliable, trusted, deeply attractive man. I’ve watched you be the best man I have ever known for the last five years. I just didn’t dare… Not if it could endanger our relationship. The relationship you have with my brother. Yet seeing you here, knowing why you’ve come to this place, I…”

“Mycroft. Please. Won’t you just kiss me?”

Mycroft trembled in his arms.

“I’m a man of principles and I always keep my word, but you make me want to throw them into the wind.”

He looked up and stared deep into Greg’s eyes. Mycroft’s face was red, his eyes dark, his hair soft and wild. His lips were slightly open, wet where his tongue darted out to lick them.

Greg leaned forward and bypassed Mycroft’s mouth to kiss his cheek. The warm skin beneath his lips felt like a revelation. It was slightly rough, the almost invisible stubble felt like a secret against his own skin—a secret only Greg got to explore. He mouthed at it, kissing down, ever down until he reached Mycroft’s throat. Mycroft moaned lowly when he sucked at the skin there, not moving away, rather pushing himself into Greg’s body.

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight? I promise I’ll be good.”

Mycroft gave a distressed laugh. “But I can’t promise I’ll be good.”

“You? Man of principles? Not good?”

Greg bit down just as Mycroft started to answer, so he received just a strangled garble. 

“I don’t care. Ravish me, leave me alone… please, I just want to be near you. I know we’ve never been close like this, but to sleep in your arms would be… I could die happy,” Greg said.

“Come on.”

Mycroft extracted himself and stood up, reached for Greg’s hand as he went towards the bedroom. Greg watched him slip out of his clothes, dropping everything but his pants in the light of the single lamp on the bedside table. The casual movements and shy smiles were more intimate to Greg than everything else they’d done. He made quick work of his own clothes, also keeping on just his pants and slipped under the blanket next to Mycroft.

They found each other like two puzzle pieces, slipping into their arms, legs entangling, cheeks nuzzled together like they’d been doing it forever. Mycroft’s skin was hot against his, his body still a bit tense, yet relaxing ever further as Greg brought a hand up to his hair and gently carded his fingers through it. Finally he sunk into him with a deep sigh and Greg had an armful of happy, content Mycroft to hold.

“If you were a cat, you’d be purring right now.”

“Hush,” Mycroft said with a smile in his voice.

“Yes, yes, your highness…”

Greg cuddled closer, relishing the feel of Mycroft’s hands on his back, the warmth and closeness of another human being, who seemed to love him as much as he did him.


	5. Chapter 5

“Gregory…”

Greg had but a fraction of a moment to wake up before he felt the lips on his throat. It startled him into a moan and he instinctively pressed himself against the body on top of him. A rush of arousal flooded him and clouded his vision, eyes pressed shut again.

“Myc—Oh fuck…”

Certain parts of his anatomy woke up faster than others, rubbing themselves against the offered body.

“Gregory… It’s 2pm…”

Greg groaned, fingers digging into the blanket. “I’m sorry for sleeping in.”

Mycroft laughed against his throat and bit down again. Greg convulsed. So good… so…

“But Mycroft, it’s Sat—”

“Hush. It’s already Sunday in New Zealand.”

Greg paused for a moment, his brain catching up, then he convulsed with laughter. He looked up at Mycroft, who was actually smirking… and moved his hips to rub them together. He had the privilege of seeing Mycroft close his eyes in pleasure, gasping. There was a flush on his body, so beautiful on his pale skin. He looked down to see their clothed erections press together and couldn’t stop a very appreciative moan. He put his hands on Mycroft’s hips and pulled him closer, rubbing against him as well as he could, pinned under him.

“New Zealand?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s an island nation in the Pacific Ocean,” Mycroft replied and leaned forward. “Now let me have you.”

“I’m not the one who—”

If there was a good way to be cut off, being kissed by Mycroft Holmes was the best. His lips were soft and giving, the small noises he made absolutely divine. He licked against Greg’s lips and was granted entry, and as their tongues touched, something in Greg’s brain short circuited. He grabbed Mycroft’s hair and pulled, turned them over in a swift movement and pushed him into the bed, never breaking the kiss. Mycroft made sweet noises underneath him, hips rubbing against him, hands digging painfully into Greg’s skin. It was perfect.

“Mycroft Holmes, I’m going to make a mess of you.”

Mycroft responded by a deep moan and an even deeper kiss. He let himself be pinned and Greg relished how eagerly he pushed himself into his hands, always following his fingers, every touch, every caress.

“I’m going to make a mess of you until it’s actually Sunday.”

“It’s already Sunday in— Fuck!”

“In fuck? Where’s that?” Greg laughed as he squeezed Mycroft’s cock again.

“Bastard…”

“No, darling, that’s you.”

“Alright, then.”

“Alright what—”

Mycroft rolled them over and pinned Greg’s hands to the bed with a strength that would be terrifying… if it wasn’t so hot. So incredibly hot. Greg couldn’t remember ever being this hard.

“Let me show you how much of a bastard I can be.”

“Oh, god yes.”

Greg was temporarily confused when Mycroft got up, yet swallowed when he saw just what the man retrieved from the closet. Two bathrobe belts. He straddled Greg’s hips again, let the soft fabric pool on Greg’s stomach.

“Good?”

Greg nodded. “Very good.”

“Tell me if not.”

“I will.”

Mycroft wrapped the belt around Greg’s right wrist, pulled it tight, fastened it to the bed frame. Then he repeated it with the left wrist, until Greg’s upper body was stretched out, hands near the corners of the bed above him. Mycroft kneeled between Greg’s spread legs, admiring his handiwork. Greg experimentally pulled at his restraints. They held well. A rush of heat went through him when Mycroft leaned over him to kiss each of his wrists.

“Probably not what you imagined. Let me just… have you… for a while.”

“To be honest, I didn’t dare imagine anything, but I’m absolutely not opposed to being under you like this. I’d love to take you at some point, but if you want me first…”

“Gregory… You can’t tell me things like that.”

Greg grinned and wrapped his legs around Mycroft’s body, pulled him in. Mycroft went with a surprised huff, then a laugh. He raked his fingernails down Greg’s chest.

“Oh god yes…” Greg moaned. “Touch me.”

“With pleasure.”

Mycroft let his hands glide all over Greg’s body, again and again, up and down his arms, chest, sides, all the way down to his feet. He scratched over his thighs, his nipples, petted his head. With every touch Greg sank ever further into absolute bliss. It was even better because he couldn’t move. Sure, he wanted to return the touches, but for now… he was all too happy to give himself into Mycroft’s capable hands. Every now and then, Mycroft pressed their cocks back together, rubbing lightly, both of them lost in pleasure.

There was no rush, and Greg relished it. He loved every sensation, but most of all Mycroft’s enjoyment, which was visible on his face and in the lines of his whole body, while he reverently touched every part of Greg he could reach, as if he wanted to record it, catalogue every little scar.

“I want to… come on you,” Mycroft said. His voice was rough already.

“Yes, please…” Greg managed, a murmured whisper.

Mycroft swallowed, then moved down the bed, taking Greg’s pants with him. His cock had softened slightly as he grew relaxed, but under Mycroft’s eyes it twitched and filled out again, slowly growing under his hungry gaze. Mycroft licked his lips as he watched him, dropping his own pants. Greg twisted in empathetic pleasure as Mycroft took himself in hand and stroked a few times, the head of his cock leaking clear, sticky fluid.

“A taste, please?” Greg asked and Mycroft understood.

He moved back up to kneel between Greg’s legs, their cocks almost touching. Then he collected some of the fluid with his index and middle finger. Greg opened his mouth to receive him. It was sweet, so sweet. Greg’s cock jumped as the taste hit his tongue, sucking on Mycroft’s fingers to chase every drop. Mycroft cursed above him, and Greg could feel his hand moving, fingers brushing against his own erection on every stroke.

“Gregory, I’m going to ride you. I know you might want—”

“Mycroft, whatever you want. Everything you want is fine. More than fine.”

Mycroft gave him a shy smile. Greg had a feeling he wasn’t only tied up for his own enjoyment, but also to give Mycroft enough room to explore without being overwhelmed or pressured by Greg’s touch. It was all fine. There would be other times. For now it was most important that Mycroft was feeling good. Safe. And to be honest? There were definitely worse things than watching Mycroft Holmes kneel above him, preparing himself with the sweetest moans, a flush down his chest, hooded eyes and a shy smile.

“Where’d you get the… supplies from?” Greg asked as a distraction to keep it together while Mycroft rolled the condom over his cock.

“We’re not in the wilderness, Gregory. There are shops around here. People in Switzerland have sex too, you know?”

“Never given it much thought, to be honest, but I suppose they must.”

“I… I want to untie you, want your hands on me, but…” Mycroft said shakily.

“Where do you want them, dear? I won’t stray.”

Mycroft made a complicated noise. “My hips only, for now. Sorry—”

“Don’t. Don’t ever apologise for telling me what you want. Just take what you need from me. I’m all yours.”

Mycroft released a deep sigh. He leaned over and untied the knots on Greg’s wrists, then brought them each to his mouth to kiss. Greg smiled up at him and Mycroft crumbled, sinking down and kissing him desperately. Greg gasped as he rubbed their erections together. He dutifully hept his hands to the side until Mycroft gave a whine.

“Would you… hold yourself still?”

Greg swallowed and nodded. He held his cock upright and as still as he could, which was hard because he was shaking with anticipation. Mycroft was shivering too, as he positioned himself right over Greg’s erection and slowly sank down. As the tip breached him, he cried out, eyes screwed shut. Greg let go of his cock and put both hands on Mycroft’s hips, not pulling, merely anchoring him. Mycroft’s hands were on Greg’s chest, his full weight on him as he lowered himself achingly slowly. Greg had to close his eyes, the feeling combined with the vision of a panting Mycroft too much for him to bear. Finally, finally he was fully seated, Greg’s fingers probably digging painfully into Mycroft’s hips, but he wasn’t complaining. On the contrary.

“Gregory… Greg…” he whispered over and over, as he touched himself, stroking his weeping cock, hips undulating in the smallest increments, which were already enough to have them both cry.

“You’re so hot inside… Fuck…”

“Greg… It’s too much… Too much… I’m going to…”

“Yes! Come all over me!”

Mycroft sobbed as he lifted himself a bit further, a delicious drag, pushing himself between his hand and Greg’s cock, supported by only one hand next to Greg’s head. Greg put his feet flat on the bed to push up just a little on every downward glide. Mycroft lost it. His face was scrunched up in pleasure, his vocalisations reduced to panting gasps.

“Oh god, oh fuck… My—” Greg stammered and it was over. 

He couldn’t hold it, not with Mycroft’s face this close, his hot breath on his lips, the wet noise they made, the feeling of Mycroft’s hand rubbing on his stomach as he stroked himself. He cursed and cried out as he buried himself deep, releasing into the condom. It was absolute, overwhelming bliss. Mycroft watched him in wide-eyed rapture, gasping each time Greg’s cock twitched and promptly spent himself on Greg’s chest, spurting up far enough to reach his chin. They breathed heavily from exertion as Mycroft let himself fall to the side to not crush Greg under his weight.

“Again?” Greg asked and Mycroft descended into a laughing fit.


	6. Chapter 6

Some time around 11pm Mycroft had lost most of his nervousness. He was clutching a pillow, face pressed into it to muffle his moans as Greg was leisurely moving in and out of him from behind. Eight hours in bed (with a room service dinner break) will do that to a person, Greg supposed. He let his hands glide down Mycroft’s back just to feel him shiver.

“Gregory…” Mycroft had turned his head to the side. “Please…”

Greg slowed down, pressing himself in as far as he could, as close as he could possibly be. He reached around and grabbed Mycroft’s erection, started stroking him. He was proud of the noises he made, proud he already knew how Mycroft liked it—close and slow and intense. Mycroft sobbed underneath him, mumbling nonsense into the pillow as he shook in Greg’s grasp. Then he came, almost silent if not for the muffled grunts, fluttering around Greg, who cursed at the sensation. He stroked until Mycroft pushed his hands away, moaning at the oversensitivity. Greg pulled out carefully and fell onto his back, breathing heavily. Mycroft was panting still. It was perfect.

“Can I… can I come on you? Make you even messier?”

Mycroft shuddered and rolled over on his back.

“Please.”

Greg pulled off the condom. He got up on his knees and positioned himself between Mycroft’s spread legs. Mycroft was flushed from head to toe, heated cheeks, unfocused eyes, mussed hair. Greg had never seen anyone remotely as beautiful. As he pushed his erection through his own hand, he reached lower and let the fingers of his other glide through the mess on Mycroft’s stomach, over his soft cock and down… to where he was still wet and open. As he pushed his fingers in, both of them moaned.

“Gorgeous…” Greg whispered.

He stroked faster and looked deep into Mycroft’s eyes. The pressure was too much. With an aborted groan he came, one hand clenched on Mycroft’s leg, the other around his own cock, aiming for Mycroft’s stomach. Something in him was deeply satisfied by how it felt like he was claiming the man, marking him as his. Mycroft looked rather satisfied too.

“Thank you,” Greg said and leaned low to lick at the mess.

“Gregory!”

“What?” Greg asked and licked his lips with a grin.

“Let me up, I’m filthy.”

“Yeah. That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but if I wait for a bit, it’ll be mostly sticky…”

“Fair. Come on.”

Greg helped Mycroft stand up on shaky legs and together they walked to the bathroom. The suite was fitted with both a large shower and a deep bathtub. Greg stared longingly at the tub.

“Tomorrow. Now I just want to get clean and sleep. I haven’t moved this much in a day since… 2013.”

“2013?” Greg asked as he watched Mycroft adjust the water temperature.

“Evacuations, general chaos, kidnapping, sword fights… an eventful week.”

“ … sword fights?”

“Let’s just say I’m not the one who lost a hand that day.”

“I… you… what?”

Mycroft burst out into laughter, shaking so much he had to hold onto the wall. Greg stared at him for a moment, then took a deep breath.

“Oh, you bastard,” he shouted and tackled Mycroft into the water.

Mycroft continued to laugh in his arms, clutching at Greg, face pressed into his shoulder. Greg had his arms around him, poked him in the side as retaliation, descending ever further into giggles until they ended up on the floor together. Mycroft sighed and kissed Greg’s cheek, then nuzzled close. Greg put a hand in Mycroft’s hair and pressed closer.

I love you, Greg thought.

“Stay,” Mycroft whispered against his skin.

“For the night?”

Mycroft sighed again. “For the rest of our vacation, at least.”

“You sure?”

“Gregory, you came here just for me, and I’m glad you did. Stay.”

“You’re not mad?”

“I was… confused for a moment. I couldn’t believe you would be here for me, even though the evidence was obvious. That you would hold me in such high regard.”

Greg kissed Mycroft’s cheek, mouthed along his skin, receiving pleased hums. “And now?”

“Stay with me and I just might believe it.”

“Under one condition.”

Mycroft drew back, gasped dramatically. Greg’s heart was so full of love it almost burst. 

“Condition?” Mycroft huffed. “Aren’t you the one who followed me here? If anyone should be making conditions, it’s me!”

“Well, I still have one.”

“Name it.”

Greg put his hand on Mycroft’s chest, watched the water rivulets run over it.

“Please don’t leave me when we’re back in London. I… I want to be in your life, like this. I want you to be in mine.”

Mycroft took a deep breath. He leaned in and kissed Greg, all soft lips and gentle pressure.

“I’m already falling for you.”

“What can I do to accelerate the process?”

With some maneuvering, Mycroft settled in on Greg’s lap and rubbed them together.

“I can think of some things.”

“Well, good thing it just turned midnight. Sunday.”

“Sunday,” Mycroft laughed and bit down on Greg’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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